Yo, Vaughn, Kick It!
by d - nise
Summary: Sydney discovers Vaughn's most shameful secret, and it's not pretty. Sydney. Vaughn. Vanilla Ice. 11


**Author: **Denise (denise*, d-nise)

**Title:** Yo Vaughn, Kick It!

**Ship:** S/V fluffffff (fluffier than fluff on a fluffy day)

**Spoilers:** Seasons 1 + 2 (including the last two minutes *sniff*)

**Rating:** Uhh, it's pretty tame, I actually make no references to Vaughn's little guy in this one. That's so uncharacteristic. Let's go with PG.

**Disclaimer:** Not only do I not own Sydney, Vaughn, Weiss or Will, I don't own, or have anything to do with Alias *tear*. I also have no affiliation with a certain Mr. Vanilla Ice.

**Author's Note:** I wrote this two weeks ago at midnight while listening to Ice Ice Baby on the hottest night of the year so far. Excuse me if I'm not as funny as I think I am, but eh, I had to get it off my chest (never had to battle with my bulletproof vest. DAMNIT! Would Sublime have counted as rap? DAMNIT!!!!) Originally written for Reader Appreciation Day, but, uh, I got really sick that weekend :( 

**Challenge elements:** Rap song, lemonade and fireworks (so *obviously* I set the story in December)

**Suggested Listening :** Ice Ice Baby by Vanilla Ice, if you've never heard it (SHAME). There are a couple of references to it in this fic that you'll enjoy so much more if you know the song :D

**SPECIAL THANKS:** To my WONDERFUL beta, EMMA!!! Thanks for reading this over, and helping me stay in the same verb tense throughout ;) Also for being such a kickass girl :D

            Sydney rolled onto her stomach and looked me squarely in the eye. Oh God. She had that look on her face. We were going to have a relationship talk. It's not that I didn't enjoy being in a relationship with Sydney Bristow, in fact, I would be the first to admit that it had _many _an advantage, and I like to think that I'm one of the guys that is better with commitment than the others. It was that kind of commitment that got me dumped by my first girlfriend in high school, because she thought I was gay. Seriously. Apparently in the U.S. they have over 2000 students in a school and it's just not right for a sixteen year old boy to fall in love, and then express that feeling.

            This is what my mother got for letting my father bring her to the U.S., a country where the highlight of the year was watching pretty lights in the sky with an infantile fascination, and stuffing your mouth with more than a healthy share of hot dogs that would inevitably clog your arteries and ultimately result in a premature death.

            God bless America.

            I blinked and Sydney was still staring at me. Sydney still had the "we need to talk" look on her face. The last time she had that look on her face was when she offered me a drawer, and really, that didn't turn out too badly, now did it? Well except for the whole chain of events in the month that followed that ended with her disappearing for two years and my marrying someone else. But that was really quite unrelated. Nothing so disastrous would happen this time, surely. We had gone through all there was to go through, and now, Sydney Bristow was staring at me intently, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, and something serious, something terrifying, was about to come out of her mouth.

            "Vaughn …" she started and I saw a flicker of evil in her eyes. I grew steadily more panicky. You see, by this point I was visibly squirming, she was taking such deliberation in saying what she was going to say, if I didn't know better I'd say she was really quite enjoying it.

            I was lying. I really didn't know better: I was quite sure she was enjoying it.

            For a spy she wasn't doing a very good job at hiding the fact she was about to say something entirely cruel and that she was about to have a great time doing it. 

            "Vaughn, I found your Vanilla Ice CD."

            Oh no. For the love of God and all the archangels and saints no. The only thing that could _possibly_ be worse would be if she found it …

            " … in your CD player."

            I squealed. I literally squealed. I moved away from her, and eyed her as though she was dangerous, which she was, armed with this knowledge. I was more than aware of the consequences if this information were it to ever pass into the hands of one Eric Weiss. I had told him I had thrown said CD out six years ago.

I briefly considered denying the matter, claiming it belongs to Weiss himself, but that lie was too easily verifiable, and I knew for a fact he put his in storage in 1994. I'm more of a sentimental person myself. And also I like to run to Ice Ice Baby. Sue me.

I could have claimed it was my sister's, but the obvious problem there was that my sister lives in France and I hadn't seen her since before I met Sydney. We're perpetually either not talking, or between not talking, over something ridiculous (no, it _hadn't_ occurred to me to drop by while I just happened to be in Nice!) and she had never really dug, so to speak, Vanilla Ice circa 1990. So blaming it on her was really not an option. 

I had no one left to accuse of buying a Vanilla Ice CD, so plan B was to get her mind off of the CD, hopefully to have her never remember it ever again.

I was going to seduce her, and no usual 'come hither' was going to do. I needed to get the big guns out, pun wholeheartedly intended.

I flopped onto my side of the bed as nonchalently as I could and looked at her. "I could really go for some ice cream." Wow. I really should have thought of something better to want, considering A. it was December and B. I was trying to get her mind off of Vanilla Ice, not steer her full throttle towards it.

"I'm sorry, did you not hear the part where I was making fun of you?" she grinned and smirked self-satisfied.

"Yeah, Michael, I think ice cream sounds like a great idea, why don't you go get some!" I said through my teeth and got out of bed rigidly.

"Come on, Vaughn, if you're going to impersonate me, you need to at least make an effort, I'd recommend the black leather bra mesh top get-up. It'll suit you better than that black trench coat did, really."

I stared at her in horror, she might as well take my balls and destroy them right now. I walked away, visibly shaken, and I heard her mumbling to herself, as she tried to remember the last time she had called me Michael.

I opened her freezer and peered around, looking for any flavour of ice cream but vanilla. If I didn't stock Sydney's fridge, it would probably consistently consist of moulding sour cream, and frozen cans of lemonade. Sydney doesn't even like sour cream, or lemonade, for that matter, and especially not together, which of course, would explain the presence of a jumbo sized tub of sour cream and eight cans of lemonade. 

I wondered if she would suspect anything if I asked her to take a drug test, just to make sure she wasn't just on some sort of crack cocaine, or drug specifically designed to make me angry.

Beneath the piles of frozen lemonade I spotted what is best described as a "mother-loud" of ice cream, and I pulled out the entire bucket-sized serving, and brought it with two spoons with me back to the bedroom. I had entirely forgotten about Operation: Seduce Sydney until I heard the opening chords.

She was the woman I had ever met.

I dropped the ice cream on the carpet and sprinted into the room, diving for the CD player. _Yo, Vanilla, kick it –_ I stopped the CD in mid-sentence and stared at Sydney, with what I hoped to be a look of sheer, unadulterated hatred radiating from me. She just grinned. "I think the lyrics 'Yo, _Vaughn_, kick it one two' would be more appropriate."

"You're the one with the twisted – "

"Attacking a fellow agent before even giving her the courtesy of hearing her out first?"

I eyed her suspiciously. "Give me that CD."

"I want you to dance."

"No." I stated, flatly. There was NO way I would let Sydney Bristow blackmail me into dancing to _Vanilla Ice_.

"I was going to ask you for a striptease, originally, but unfortunately you're already only wearing your boxers."

"Listen, Syd, I'll do whatever you want, I'll … I'll go see all those romantic comedies you love to see with you, and I'll –"

"Vaughn you love those movies too."

"I'll let you dogsit Donovan, you can … I'll strip to any other song. Anything but Vanilla Ice."

She smiled and opened her mouth when a cell phone rang. Thanks to the wonders of government issue, we both had the same one, with the same ring and she grabbed both phones on the dresser and stared at the caller ID, and if it was possible, her smile grew wider, and more evil. "It's Weiss."

Ohhhhh shit.

I haven't been entirely honest with you. The reason that I was originally so frightened about Sydney's "relationship-talk" was that, well, I had had a bit of a spin on it planned, myself. And the reason I found myself wallowing in a vat of self-pity just a moment before wasn't so much that Sydney was getting precariously close to telling Weiss my little Ice Ice Baby secret, well, it was just that Weiss and Will were sitting outside at this very moment, waiting for us, and as luck would have it, they were royally pissed off.

"Sydney, where the _hell_ is Vaughn?"

"He's right here," she said, puzzled.

"Oh really. Well could you do me a favour?"

"Uhh …" she was obviously unnerved by this suddenly unwelcome interruption.

"Tell him it's freaking _freezing_, emphasise the freezing, I really don't want him to miss that part."

When Sydney wants to, she can jump to conclusions. And jump she did, a fact she exhibited with a cute little snort. I guess I'm the only one who found it cute, but anyway, I maintain that it was cute. "Icy cold?"

"Well, yeah, if you want to put it that way, sure. I have no objections."

"Ice ice baby."

"What the hell?"

"Something grabs a hold of me tightly, flow like a harpoon daily and nightly?"

"Are you feeling alright, Syd?"

"Word to your mother?" She was horror-stricken, she had just started randomly rapping to my best friend, ha! Served her right!

"Listen, I'll just, leave you be, I don't want to make fun of you when something is obviously wrong, so, just tell Vaughn to get his act together, will you?"

"Oh God, Weiss, you don't understand, I thought you knew about Vaughn's Vanilla Ice CD."

I could physically _see_ her emasculating me.

Weiss stopped laughing for long enough to tell Will.

Things were _definitely _not going according to plan. In fact, nothing had gone so not according to plan ever before. That was about when Sydney heard Will and Weiss laughing hysterically in her backyard.

She stood up and I lunged for the second time that night, this time to the glass doors separating her home from her garden. "STOP!" I screamed but she pushed me out of the way and opened the door.

"Vaughn, why the _hell_are Eric Weiss and Will Tippin hiding behind the bushes in my backyard?? And why is it covered in snow?!"

If they didn't pull their acts together pretty damn fast, I would have had to have gone and done it myself but in between a snort I heard an explosion and then despite the fact that this wasn't turning out the way I had originally hoped it would, I saw her eyes widen as the first blue fireworks lit the space over her freshly snowed on lawn.

"Vaughn," she whispered and all the ills I had been wishing upon her faded fast. Quickly more fireworks joined the first one, and I couldn't help but smile as I watch her face light up completely as she tore her gaze away from the mini lights show in her backyard in the middle of winter, and she smiled the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. A full-on dimples show, complete with a bit of a mist of happiness in the eyes, and a slight cock to the left. I had lost the battle with Sydney Bristow years ago. 

And then I realised I'd left the ring inside. If she had just chosen another day to try and force me to dance to Vanilla Ice, none of this would have happened. This really would have been the perfect proposal, but now isn't the time for apologies, or accusations (the latter would _certainly_ come later).

So, with temperatures as low as they got in Los Angeles, and fake snow everywhere, illegal fireworks in the sky, and me in my boxer shorts, I got down on one knee in front of Sydney Bristow.

"Sydney …" but she doesn't let me finish, or, arguably, start. She stoops from where she's standing and kisses me, hard. "Is that a yes?" I manage to squeeze out, and she just kisses me again.

When we went inside, a while after, some things hit me. First of all, Operation: Seduce Sydney had gone _quite_ well indeed. Secondly, I was the luckiest man in the world. Thirdly, not only had she promptly forgotten about Vanilla Ice, but she seemed to have abandoned the idea of forcing me to dance to him.

Life certainly was good.


End file.
